It's a Hard Life When You Wont Stop Singing the Blues (Yoko Kurama)
by NOxiousKaye
Summary: The story of Damion Kreigh and his by chance love story with Yoko Kurama. In this story the other members of Yu Yu Hakusho will only be showing in the first few chapter and it will be focusing on Yoko Kurama's story after the fact. It is a romantic drama with adult content, controversial themes, and real life references. Enjoy my "pilot" chapter an introduction to Damion Kreigh
1. Meeting Damion Kreigh

_I killed a man today. Shot a Five-Seven through the back of his scull. Now I'm at a damn art store... Fucking blood. There's a fine example of nine to five for you. For once I want a clean job. Sorry fuck. One more down for takeing the wrong damn money. Shit._

_This one._

_Shit. Bet he had kids. Two rich shit girls. Fuck. Great thing to come home to. Why does it have to be so damn bloody? Fuck._

_This is fucking expensive._

_Fuck!... Calm down. That's a fucking great thing to come home to. Their mom will be fucking hystarical. Shit cops trying to explain it. Damnit. Damion breath you shit._

_What are you looking at._

_Fuck._

_I don't need anything else._

_It's a job. just a job. Nine to five. Don't take it home. Ingore it. Just ignore it. Breath. Work. People fucking die every damn day. Get fucking mixed up. Get fucking shot. Forget it._

"Sir!"

"What? Uh yeah. Sorry, how much?"

"Forty-six eighty-four. You okay? You seem kinda out of it you know"

_Fuck off. "_Just work"

"Guy like you doesn't seem like he should have to think so hard"

_Is she fucking hitting on me? _"H'ya, well we all have our skeletons" _I just made a pun out of my last corpse. Good job. You getting over it._

"Hey, do I recognize you"

_Really bitch? I don't know, do you? "_You might. I get around" _Fucking finish my transaction._

"Yeah. You don't have a look a girl forgets, you know"

_I know. Bag it. _"Guess not"

"Like, a lot guys can't wear their hair so long and still look so rugged you know"

_ya know ya know ya know. Fuck! "_Haha, thanks. Honestly I'm used to people saying I'm kind of girly" _Why did you just give a reason to keep talking? You fucking polite bastard._

"No way, not with that scruff. It's hot"

_Ohh kaay. Time to beat it. I'm not in the mood for a cheap fuck. _"Wow. Well, thank you" _Card. give me my fucking card._

_"_Oh my God, and that accent. You are like from England right?"

_Is there a fucking manager around. Please let a line start forming. Please. _"Welsh. Can I get my card?"

"Oh. My. God. I. Am. So! Sorry. Here you go"

_If she fucking touches me. Fuck. What an easy fucking cunt. "_Thank you. Have a good day" _Just get the hell out._

_Oh man. Hope he was cheating on his wife and beat his children._

Damion Kreigh walked through the door of his penthouse. Middle of Soho and a block from Broadway. Three floors loft style. Open as can be floor plan. Huge windows. High ceilings. Three beds, two baths. Indoor second floor pool. Garden patio. His damn baby. Hundred years of selling his soul to the highest bidder finally paid of. Sort of.

The place was a mess with art. His mostly. Now that he had a stable name in pop culture he could actually sell the stuff. Even the shit he sold on the side of the street started to pop up and take value. He barley made a penny from it. Now he opened galleries and made commissions. Fifteen years ago he could barley buy food after the drugs. Now he was on Magazine covers. Head line "Top Ten Sexiest Men on Earth" and him bare chest and engulfed in a mane of gold curls. Pulling of a shy smirk he knew made women swoon. He was actually kind of embarrassed by it to be honest. Didn't stop his friend Gael from blowing it up and hanging it on the his parlor wall. Gael's version of a practical joke.

He didn't make shit as an assassin. He didn't make shit working for the fucking Seals. At least he sort of liked that job. He liked his team anyway. Best men on Earth. Men he would die for and they had fallowed him into hell time over again. The grand US of A always wants some one dead. At least when he had those hits the fuckers seemed pretty good for dead. Some times. And then that other fucking job.

Servitude.

Damion kept busy. He kept sane. Or at least was able to keep some sort of fancy facade of that sanity. His outlet for ever had been vice. God oh god sweet vice. The only time he was properly sober was when he worked with the Seals. Then they were his outlet.

Ten years ago the high ups let him make his own team. Most skilled people he ever met. More then marksmanship and strategic. These shits knew music. Who the fuck would have thought. These fuckers could make some damn Rockn' Roll. Kids. In their twenties. Gael was some crazy sixteen year old prodigy.

Around a campfire. Time off. They took a trip to Norway for some good jumps. Real extreme stuff. Barry pulls out this beat up guitar and plays this Spanish shit that almost made Damion cry. Then broke into Damion's heart with some old blues tunes. He sung along. They all plays around a bit. Turned out they all could play shit. Marcus had an old metal band in high school. And that man could kill the drums. Vincent. Black dude. Fucking dreads to his ass, played the bass when he got stoned out. Gael could pick up almost anything. But made a Sax melt. Kid could also do some shit with his voice. Damion knew how to play just about everything. As a young man he played the violin on street corners to make an extra buck. He even made three albums. One in the sixties, when everyone was. Two in the eighties. Not many sales until after he made his band. Turns out people didn't get into jazz, blues and art rock to hard in the eighties.

He didn't know how he suddenly became the lead writer and singer of a damn grunge band. But he fucking loved it. He was with his best friends all the time and could make money doing something that didn't make him want to jump in front of a train. He didn't need to sell himself in between jobs anymore to. Now sex was only for fun. He lived in a real damn place. No more jumping from crack house to underpass to cheap ass apartment to the bed of his boss. He even had pets. What a damn revolution.

And fuck did the media love him. He was the polite bad boy. An ace front man. He was a natural on stage. Not like he hadn't been trying it for sixty years. His voice was flawless and he fell into the music like sex. He was never boring in front of the crowd. He actually felt happy up there. And the crowd could tell be his ear to ear grin.

And the polite bad boy was a controversial theme park. The drug use. The sex. Pictures of him getting fuck men. His extremist views opposing religion. Oh, and then there was that little incident twelve years ago when suddenly demons started popping up on the news. Chicks with fox ears and fishy girls. At first the world thought it was some Japaneses prank. Then shit got kind of real. Peace talks. fear in the media. Fox news having a field day. And then a rising for demon rights. Being "openly demon" and a well known member of the community he had become a sponsor for demon rights. Then there was that last bit about him being a known friend and guessed lover of an other well known demon. A Gangster. Or large business owner in Brooklyn. Veek Shak.

Fucking Veek.

But now some time had past. The band had twelve albums and ten years. Barry was married to a cute Korean gal. Good woman. Had a kid. They still partied hard when they weren't around the world pretending to not be themselves in combat and hiding in foreign alleyways. The media had moved on to the pop stars of the time. And at least Damion had a bit of quite for himself.

He did a line of cocaine. Then an other. Poured a Cabernet Sauvignon. Switched on Pandora. A Korn song blasted from the sound system.

_Calm down._

He waited.

The box he kept in the side table was empty.

_Fuck!_

He kicked a hole through an abandoned canvas.

_Fucking heroine. Fuck._

He felt his body tense up. He started to shake.

_Shit. Fuck. Calm down. Breathe. Listen to the music. Neil Young. "_Come on down from the river of sight..."_ fuck. Deep breath. _"And you will come around" _sounds so fucking beautiful right... I need some weed._

He rolled a joint. The Beatles started to take the station. He took a deep drag.

_See. Shits good. Shits so good. God yes._

The world started to take a calm form. He closed his eyes and let the music take him away. Deep breaths. Mississippi John Hurt. Better the drugs.

He sung to the songs until he fell asleep.

The phone had the audacity to ring in the middle of a lovely dream. He held on to the starry night. The crisp air. The sensation of flying and then.. and then. He lost it.

Unknown number.

_Work_. "It's late" _Fuckers, I was having a good dream._

"It's noon"

_Noon? Fucking hell, I have a fucking head ache. How much did I drink? _"It's early"

"People in the real world have been up for hours"

_Fucker _"What would you know. You live in fairy land"

_"_Get here. The hire ups have something for you"

_Oh great. Just what I always wanted. Spirit shit. "_Work? Yeah, sorry, been busy lately, find someone else to play with"

"We did. You getting a partner for this. Get your ass here"

_Alright. Dancing monkey ready for duty._

He hung up.

"Shun, I couldn't care less about this fucking job. I'm not going to play in your stupid tournament. I'm taking a vacation"

"You want a vacation Kreigh you take it from your thug work. You should be Honored they let a demon work with us for so long"

_"_Funny, I didn't know 'let' was the term we were using" _Fucking SDF fucks._

"What's that you did yesterday? Shot a human in the head. Your lucky your not down with your brother on lock down"

_Keep your mouth shut Damion. _"Fuck off. Shot him. A gun. Killed by human means right? Your pretty Spirit rules. You use me because I'm fucking proficient at following your pretty guidelines. As long as I play it like a human I'm under human jurisdiction" _Far enough Damion. _"Haven't done anything to send you fuck against me yet" _There you go. Pushing away._

"Was that a threat demon"

_Don't _"I sure wish It could be" _Oh yup. Now hes going to hit you._

Shun-jun pushed Damion against the wall and punched him in the jaw.

"Been slapped by children harder" _Just stop. You had your fun._

"You do not threat the SDF. You do not mock the SDF. You are a damn servant to us, you hear me? They may like you because you don't know how to be a demon, but if you keep up this shit I will kill you"

"Try me"

A man walked around the corner. "Shun-jun, Koenma asked me to work with the man your currently threatening. I suggest you allow us to discuss the matter at hand. I'm sure you have important business else where" He walked into the light.

"I'm working with him?!" _What the hell are they thinking?_

"Intimidated working with someone how actually has an once of demon energy?"

Damion landed an uppercut and Shun-jun went out cold. Then turned towards his new partner.

"You don't seem please"

"I wasn't expecting the thief to be working with me"

"I wasn't expecting a demon in the SDF. Or for him to be pop idol"

"Rock star" _Bitch. "_What ever. They told me you were creating a team for this shit"

"I have a few people in mind"

The Dark Tournament. With the new surplus of demon activity the Tournament had become huge. And with the promise of any wish you could dream of, after reading the fine print, there was often the threat of powerful demons and humans with malicious plans. This year wasn't any different. But this was the first year Damion had been told to join. In fact his work his the SDF normally didn't involve demons at all. Only apprehending humans who had ill intent that could bring attention to the Spirit World. He only went after demons under very special circumstances. And the there was the task of deriving information. Ninety years in the military had made with quite good at it.

"So basically you didn't have enough people for your little famous team so they are making me join along"

"That seems to be what they are thinking"

_Fuck. I'm a damn after thought. "_Well remember what this fuck," he kicked the unconscious Shun, "said. I Am not very useful when it comes to demons. And I'm not a fighter. I kill. I'm not like your sort"

"For some one that doesn't know how to fight you sure seem to have a practiced arm"

"He's a light weight. I box. I fight humans. I am not comfortable in this sort of situation"

"Koenma seems to think you will be quite the asset"

"Well hes in diapers" _What is this shit. Koenma knows I can't release me energy like normal fucks. Is he trying to kill me?_

"I guess we will just have to see next week. I suppose they only wanted us to meet. So I will see at the tournament" He turned around and raised a hand in departure. "Until next time Damion Kreigh"

_What's with this guy, he is weird calm. "_Yeah. See you then" _Man. he is not anything like I thought. He looked damn cheery. Like the hole thing was humorous. Shit. They said he was a scary cold bastard. The fact that he wasn't is kind of scary though..._

_Damion Kreigh. What a strange surprise. Imagine some artist being a part of the SDF. I suppose we all have many life's._

_..._

_I wonder how wrong Shun-jun knows he is about the energy. I have never seen such immense control. He keeps it kept so densely packed in himself. Why would some one go to such lengths to restrain themselves. It must be immensely painful. And to be flexed like that. I see why Koenma thinks he will be such an asset. And then that energy signature. I can't recognize it... However..._

_..._

_He's a Durant_

_He's also incredibly sexy._

The Durant:

A species of demon commonly associated with tropical birds. Said to have a high chance of having an intellectual capacity to rival any. Typically they hold powers that can control mater. Most commonly used to create sparks, fire or explosions. Like those of quest class these abilities can be used to create tangible objects with a great deal of practice. It is said that a true master of the art could posses unlimited possibilities. Being a bird race they have long wings of nearly every color and pattern and long spans. Physically these demons posses no more strength then that of a human. Relying entirely on their energy.

Five-thousand years ago the entire race had left the demon world. Because of powerful magic said to be stored in their feathers they were nearly hunted to extinction. They made roust in the human world for safety. However had to leave after humans had called them fallen angles. Demons from hell. It became dangerous there as well.

They left the human world then diapered from any record. Some colonies were left however. They were call fanatics, taking the humans side. Calling them selves hell spawn. And carving off their wings.

There is a rare genetic disease as well that forms like a tumor inside their energy. Essentially making it so their energy eats them alive. A typical case will take twenty to forty years to kill the victim, however in a few rare cases, such as the one in subject Damion Kreigh, a strong suppression in demonic energy may allow the subject to live up to one-hundred, or even older. No cure has been found in record.


	2. Our 1 Rocker Hottie Side Story

Article "Big" Magazine 2006 10 Sexiest Men In the World Issue

From two page spread "Our # 1 Rocker Hottie"

About the Man Damion Kreigh

Born Damion Creed (Kreed) Kreigh, April 10th 1886 (WOW) to mother Aggie and father David Kreigh with his older brother also David Kreigh near Dale, Wales in a small fishing town.

There is no questioning this mans incredible good looks. His mesmerizing baby blues are like hot springs. His mad long curly golden locks fall like a mane, and that man knows how to work a his carefully landscaped scruff. And his glasses only make his delicate features pop all the more. And Oh My Goodness do we even have to mention that body. 5' 10", 145 lbs. Fit like an athlete. This man is built like a sex god. And he's not afraid to show it. With a style I would call gypsy posh, he sure knows how to make the ladies look. And I like a man who isn't afraid of accessories. Primp men. The ladies LOVE it. Oh, and did I mention that smile. Those lips are ment for kissing. There is no way around it. And we all know from his career with his band Kreed, he knows how to use that mouth of his.

Interview questions, selection from article

Q: You say your history is with "Art Rock" and blues, so why move to Grunge and Heavy Metal? Are you uncomfortable with the genre?

A: No, I'm totally comfortable and at home with the genres. We had never really focused on any particular genre purpose. We all enjoyed Heavy Metal and, um, deeper tracks. So it is just where we fall by default. Like you said my history is in, um, "Art Rock" which really is just a fancy name for progressive. Which we do a lot as well, just more modern. Something people these days can relate easier to. My older music was more progressive for sure. A bit folky. A bit bluesy. Kind of had an "old world" feel. It mostly stemmed from a deep love for rock as well as that nostalgia. Coming to age in New York City, um the mostly the Bronx. Hearing the old folk songs. Then I get a lot of inspiration from bands like Led Zeppelin and Jethro Tull. My first album in 1969 was really just folk though. I have just always loved making music. And of course it would evolve to Heavy Metal. The blues are heavy. nothing it better than the blues. You meld your blues and your rock, you really just get Heavy Metal. Then Grunge is just that next step. It is hard to make metal and not play in grunge. At least for me. I love our music. It comes on the radio I turn that s*** up. And when I do miss my roots, I have actually have done two side projects with mainly just Gael and Barry. And that plays back on my folk loving side. And I think some of Barry's best guitar work. And Gael has composed some really beautiful stuff.

Q: Your antics on stage have the world calling you a "Sex Idol" How does that make you feel?

A: Absolutely honored. But for real, no really awesome. But I'm just performing. I'm dancing. I'm keeping time. I'm feeling space. Using the stage. But every great front man I can think of is f***** hot on stage. Like they can have some crazy mug, and still the sexiest man alive stage. And I don't think I come close to Robert Plant, Steve Tyler. Axel Rose. Jim Morison. Steve Tyler is an old son of a bitch, still sexiest man I can think of, and mainly because I have seen that man on stage. Mick Jagger. Rip my heart out. Now I just hope next time I see any said (alive) men they don't avoid me.

Q: Some people say you own your success to your band. What would you say?

A: I agree one hundred percent. I have made music, recorded, have done sessions with big names, been to the parties, living the life style for, what, 50 years now. I was one of those guys playing gigs in Soho with my guitar being watched by a bunch of stoned hippies. And being one of those stoned hippies, it was great. I have done studio work on and off for ever. Made three albums by myself, that yeah, now sell all right, but the only people who know me then were the hard-core folk lovers, and they had better to listen to. I never booked a stadium. Up till 10 years ago i lived on the street and could barely pick up a coffee-house. Those men saved my life. Those talented mother f******* are the reason I wasn't found ODed on the side of the road with my pants pulled down. Painting I sold for dimes in 1910 are showing up in Antics Roadshow and being appraised at 20k. A guitar I played a track on for some crap movie in the 80's just sold in auction for 30k. Because of those guys I have a penthouse in my good old Soho and three vacation homes. What I did before them got me enough for drugs and bread. I had a favorite over pass. 10 years with them, I'm giving millions of dollars to charities ever year. I own them every f****** thing I have. Except for the genetics. And then the tights abs, and well maintained, rugged goatee. That's all me.

Q: You have lived a life of poverty. Why did you become an artist of all things? Why not find a more steady job?

A: Because I had to. The streets suck. I'm not going to lie. But I had to have that thing, that outlet. That love. My parents were under the impression that art was sinful. If I got caught drawing in the dirt my father would beat me. I would get whipped for whistling. On my tenth birthday my brother brought to me a set of water colors because he loved what I drew in the dirt. Then he took me away. He ran away and took me so I could do what I love. I had to make art my life.

Q: What are your "likes"?

A: Damn, that's broad. Um, most music recorded between 1900 and 1978. That comes straight to mind. Then like half the music until maybe 95, the maybe 30% of then to now. Minus county after 1963. I read a lot. Art. I love art. all the above I guess is "art" but I love art. And I can always respect art. Even shit I can respect. I learn languages as a past time. I know currently 23 languages almost fluent. Learning is the key to everything. When ever you have the chance to learn anything, take it. Most worth it thing you can do with your time. extreme sports. I like to go from point a to point b vertically and at a fast pace. Snow sports. Mountain climbing, free hand. I box. I like fighting. I like to fight in a semi organized environment where everyone is screaming there is no rules and money flying around. A good night life. Loud music, lots of drugs, lots of sex. Lights. And then, um, I like cute things. I own two cats. There are my babies. I am a complete wimp about them. But I don't baby talk. And when I do, I apologize to them. It's disrespectful. But I do stick my face in their stomachs and just enjoy the purr for a while. Real hard-core cuddling. I watch girly anime. Shojo anime. Cute love stories. Make me cry. most of the time it's ridiculous and funny. It has everything I could want. I read a lot of Josei manga. Yaoi. Your readers can figure out what that is if they want. I just like cute things. And I have become a bit of a geek. Fantasy. Science fiction. Marvel. Great movies lately. I love action movies. Horror. Old SNL. With the good people like Steve Martin, then all of their movies. And s*** TV. Nothing is better for making your self feel less trashy then watching people more trashy do things.

Q: What are your pet peeves?

A: Okay, people with money that say f*** you to people with out it. Country music after the 60s. People that say "God Bless". People that say the they will pray for you. People that actually believe that prayer had saved them. These ignorant bastards that refuse to educate them selves and their children. Capitalists. Anyone that can call a socialist a Nazi. I met Nazis, they are not socialists. I happened to live though that war. Pedophiles. Animal abuse. Hell I hunt, but im not going to kick around my kittens. People that own small dogs. Just get a cat. And people who tell me to stop smoking. Like, I'm on the street, walking to the grocer, and some up tight b**** says to put it out. Your breathing in worse all the time, I'm not killing you any faster, you live in Manhattan. When someone asks if I'm English. I'm Welsh. We are diffrent. I acsept British, thats true enough. Or when I say I'm an american, and a person gets upset. You don't need to be born here to be an American. You just need to choose to be. And I am in fact an American by choose, Welsh by birth. And when I get called a Pop Icon. Rock star please. I get it. I know that I am in fact an icon in pop culture, but no. I don't like it.

Q: What is you ideal woman?

A: Alright. I think you missed a memo, but I'll play with it. She has great taste, really smart. Witty. Taller than me would be good. A big sadistic. Real good in bed. Kinky. Long hair. Great body. Like, you totally have to look good, I'm sorry, I'm a prick. Can be cute. And not like look cute, but just little quirks that make me smile. Athletic. I would like some one that can keep up with me and join me in the things I like to do. Loves art. I need great conversation, but someone who I can just still around in silence and be completely comfortable. And she has love me. I mean, really truly deep down, heart breakingly love me. Oh, and the she has to be a man. There's that missing memo. Like I have a lot of sex. Men, women, some people I can't really be sure about. But I don't think I can have that same spark with a woman. And before any of my band mates read this, I'm not talking about you, Vincent.

Q: Can we get some favorites? Color, flower, band, place to visit, food, animal, etc?

A:Well in order, Lavender, Orchid, Led Zeppelin, New Orleans or Paris. Food. That is a hard one. Like a sweet dessert crape with berries, or a real nice rare piece of steak. I so f***** hungry. Cats. I love cats. Or squirrels. I love to watch them run around. That is always a good day at the park. Small woodland animals.


	3. Chapter 2 Welcome totheFreak Show

"Welcome to the freak show boys" A tall green man with a long lizard like tail gave Damion and his friends an annoyed scowl as he passed on the island docks and muttered something rude under his breath. "Hope you are ready to see some really weird shit" Damion mused.

"Hope you're ready for the media hell storm when this shit goes viral. You know this tournament has no chance of staying a secret anymore" Barry couldn't take his eyes off something that looks sort of like a rhino having an aggressive conversation with something that could have been human if it wasn't for a foot long neck. "You can kiss your sponsorship goodbye. No one will take you serious next time you say demons can be just like humans after this"

"I know. This shit is going to be the proof of bad publicity"

"Hell no" Marcus interjected, "No such thing. Once the media sharks get ahold of some footage of you being big bad killing demon our hardcore fans will swoon"

"Sure, metal as hell. Up there with biting the head off a bat" said Vincent.

"Man, I sure wish I didn't take all those hits of acid. This trip is fucking insane. You see over there, I am sure I am seeing two transparent mouse people asking a grey dude with elephant ears for directions"

"Nah Gael man, this shit is happening"

"Thanks Vincent, and here I thought there was still some sanity left in the world" Gael walked up beside Damion "So where are meeting your team?"

"Just at our room"

"You going to be alright with them dudes? We could come meet them with you. Help break the ice if you want"

"I'm an adult. I can deal with it. Besides, I already know how they are. I had to watch them all some years ago for the old boss up stairs. Apparently he didn't trust his son's judgment. It's just some jokers and an insanely mysterious guy everyone upstairs hates. And I'll only have to deal for two weeks"

"They, ah… There all supposed to be good fighters right? So you won't have to push yourself? I… Like it won't be like were used to seeing you fight normal humans, you need to use that shit. So stay out as much as you can, okay?'

"I'll be fine Gael. This shouldn't strain me too much. As long as I keep myself in check" It was a bit of a lie for his friend's sake. Truthfully he didn't know enough about his illness to say just what could happen to his body if he used his demonic energy to the extent he knew he would have to in these fights. It had been years since he used his energy for anything more than lighting a cigarette, and that was even starting to put a strain on him if he went around chain smoking. He knew that it was only a matter of years until his energy finished eating him away. But he couldn't suppress it all the time. If he didn't let it burst time to time throughout the day he would have searing headaches. As a result he had been controlling his energy every moment of his life since childhood. It was like always flexing your muscles, to the extent that it was just how your body used to being naturally, even in sleep. Like breathing. It is just always happening. And as a result of that, apparently that had made him extremely good at controlling it outwardly.

Barry put a hand on Damion's shoulder. "Yeah, it will be alright, and hell we have never seen you do any of that crazy stuff you are supposed to be able to do, we've only seen you kick some one's ass with your fists. Should be fun as hell" Then he said quitter, only to Damion, "You're going to be okay. Don't stress, just have fun and stay safe"

Barry Simons was Damion's rock. When he was given the go to create a team in the seals in '96 Barry was the first guy he brought on. Classic bad kid gone good after old fashion strict parenting and boot camp right after boarding school. Despite a strict childhood, and a tough love start the man had a great relationship with his family, and even if he became a big bad rocker, they were very proud of him. He was happy and steady. Recently he had become the father of a darling little girl, and was married to a vivacious, very sweet Thai girl, Lou, who was now taking care of Damion's cats. Damion thought Barry much be one of the luckiest men in the world. At home he was the good guy friend, always ready to laugh and have fun with everyone else, but keeping them all in check. On stage he was beast. He was recognized as one of the best guitarists in history, making it on Rolling Stone top 100 rock musicians. When in operations he was pretty brilliant with computers, which is why Damion requited him. And like all the men on his team he was a great shots well as great with hand to hand fighting. He also had the lifesaving skill of keeping Damion calm when the hard choices had to be made. And apparently he was quite sensitive to Spirit World, if he wanted, Damion thought, he could actually be a skilled spirit fighter. He did have one dramatic flaw however, the man was obsessed with gambling. An impulsive addict, to the point where Damion has had to help him out of sticky situations with disreputable fellows.

"Yeah, you say you're alright, but you don't play well with others. Maybe you should just stay in our room"

"Thanks Gee, but I really will be okay. I think I'll at least like their poster boy okay. Yuksuke seems like an okay guy"

Gael Gwen was Damion's only other British American friend. Another Welshmen, all the way from Cardiff when he was ten via his father's career. And he was for sure the strangest man Damion had ever know, and he was his best friend. And this man was damn genius passing an IQ of 150 and it was still hard to have a smart conversation with him, or the joke at least went that way. Damion thought he was probably so strange because he always retained some much information he didn't know how to handle it, so he handled it with drugs. But this crazy kid, the day he turned fourteen he got his GED, then just ran away for his warm home in Shitcago, to the fucked up streets of New York, the quickly made a reputation for himself. He also, somehow but himself through med school. It got to the point where all the street dwellers and lowlifes from Main too the docks new this guy. This fucking kid would do his homework in loud bars and clubs, always managed to get free drinks, food and speed. And maybe it was the speed, or maybe his weird nap system, but Damion had never seen Gael actually sleep. Damion happened to bunk at the same crack house for a while when Gael was fifteen or so, and from that point took him under his wing, tried to keep him safe. But he just didn't get. Once a week Gael was on a phone talking to his mother. He could have been on a euro trip for of casual the conversations were. Why would he run away from that to live like scum? Latter Gael had told him he was weighed down by his father's expectations, but had always felt like it may have been worse than he lets on. When he was seventeen he joined the military saying they would pay for his school, and because he was so smart and pretty street skilled, as well as knowing a few languages, he was hopping he could get in to some hardcore stuff. Right after basics he was requited by Damion. Damion took a picture of Gael's face when he saw him in his Captain's uniform. "Why the shit you live on the street?"

"Bad life choices" The last member of his group had joined. 2000 was looking pretty good.

"I think that girl is half monkey. That shit is fucking hot"

Marcus Fellow was an explosive man. One hell of a drummer and completely wild. One day he asked Damion if he would like to jump off a cliff with him, then at complete random, just fell off into the ocean, showed up twenty minutes later, his long sandy hair plastered on face and clothes drenched. Whenever a job required a hard way to get from point a too point b, he was the guy to figure it out. He started making the group go on crazy vacations to Norway or China or anywhere he could do something crazy, which started Damion a new love for extreme sports. The world was never dull with that man. He lived for a thrill and made them as happen as often as he could. Before Damion got his hands on him he was a go to man for covert missions, other requited for a number of daredevil jobs. But despite being crazy, and was careful and precise. Damion requited him as soon as he was alloyed.

"Yo Gael, you actually trippin' right now?"

Mister Vincent Love. A man built like a damn god. 220 lbs of incredible sculpted muscle. Tall, broad, and very attractive. He always wore loose shirts and tight pants just because he knew how sexy he was. He had long black dreads he always wore back out of his angular face. He had flawless dark skin and friendly black eyes and a smile that could end wars, if the US of A didn't ask his to help start them. Before he was a military guy he was an MMA fighter, and really damn good at it. Damion met him in Uruguay at an underground fighting ring. They got along famously. Damion had never met such a playboy before either. Which may or may not have resulted in some crazy drugged orgies after concerts depending on who you ask. And despite being quite straight, he loved flirting with Damion. Out of nowhere, he also could play anything with strings, pretty damn well to.

They continued their way to the single giant hotel the island had to offer. Time to start this thing.

A Mr. Tall dark and professional was leaning against a pillar in the lobby sporting an expensive suit and looking like a million bucks, which was probably about how much he was worth as is. When Damion and his entourage walked through the front doors of the hotel he smiled a million dollar smile and approached, eyes fixed on Damion.

Gael took a nearly indiscernible step to the front of Damion and said loudly, "And here we thought it would be a fun vacation. Turns out we have to be stuck on a roach infested island" He couldn't see the man without wanting to start a fight.

Damion pulled Gael back smoothly by the shoulder and effectively gave him to Barry. "Hey Veek. I suppose you are here to bet?"

"Of course sunshine, you think I would socialize with this sort recreationally? This place makes my skin crawl. I have all sorts of business here actually. Lots of money to be made… But don't get me wrong my dear, I'm am mainly here to see that do well. It would break my heart if one of these scoundrels killed you"

"I'm sure you would be lost"

"Defiantly. But please, do give me a show. It will help the betting"

"You'll get your show. But I'm sure it won't be very good for your betting if people see you talking to me. They will think your rigging things"

"Of course you're right. I'll call you later"

"Looking forward to it" Damion was openly sarcastic, but Veek didn't seem to mind, and he walked away with impressive confidence.

"Fuck that guy. You know what really pisses me off?" Gael was raging, Barry holding his arm, but looking just as annoyed. "I never have a fucking gun when he's around"

Vincent put his arms around Gael from behind, "We all want to shoot him, but just imagine how hard it would be to deal with D man if he didn't have an owner"

Thanks Vin, have I ever told you how much I enjoy our confidence in me. You always make me feel warm and fuzzy" Damion started walking to the front desk. "Cool off Gael, it's not a big deal". He checked in at the counter. "I'll see you guys later, I have a team to meet" He waved goodbye and left. Normally he would have delayed going to the room as long as he could, but seeing Veek made him annoyed, and he would rather not heat Gael continue to complain about it. That voice in the back of his head did it enough.

_Fucking bastard. Where the hell does he get off coming here? Business my ass! He wants to see me get hurt so he can jack off to it! I bet he won't let me sleep either. He'd fucking love that; me falling the hell asleep in the middle of a fight and having my bloody face tore off. Good picture._

He made it to the end of a hall and got on an elevator.

_And he had to fucking show up in front of them. Barry won't let it go I bet anything. Going to get another "heart to heart". Damn it. Bet he enjoyed the hell out of antagonizing them. I wish Gael wouldn't be so emotional about it. He's too good for me. Kid should have let me die off years ago._

He got to his floor and followed the numbers down a hall. The doors were far apart.

_I got a nagging feeling that this is going to be way more trouble then it is worth. _

Damion stuck a cigarette between his lips and the end smoldered as he drew from it. _The only perk of my genes. _He thought.

He reached the door. There were already voices inside. A lot of them. _It was too much to hope they didn't bring their friends to I guess. _He opened the door without knocking, because hell, why not? His room to.

There was a short moment of silence then Kurama said, warmly, "Damion. Fantastic now we are all here"

"Uh, hello. People" He directly scanned the room, not making direct eye contact with anyone. He recognized everyone from his work watching the Spirit Detective years before.

"Shall I introduce you?" Kurama asked.

"No need, I think I know everyone's name here"

A woman he recognized as Yuksuke's wife, Keiko gave him a nagging look. "Firstly, do you see anyone else in here smoking?" behind her a woman in her mid-forties, probably Kuwabara's sister, Shizuru, stuffing a pack of cigarettes back in her purse. "Second, why do you know ALL of us?" She emphasized "all".

"Unfortunately my position makes me privy to all sorts of information I don't want to know" It was off handedly a rude comment, but he made it sound almost charming and she seemed to not know how to take it. He took the Camel out of his mouth and the smoldering stopped, then put it back in the pack.

Yusuke, with a big friendly grin said, "Yeah? Kurama said you worked for Koenma. So what is it you actually do? Were you working for him when I was detective?"

Damion hated too many questions. "Technically I worked for his father. Around sixty years I think. I'm not really alloyed to talk about it. But I am more of an SDF errand boy to be honest. Maybe an indentured servant is the best term of my employment" He got a smile out of Kurama. He also got a smile from Yusuke's friend Kuwabara, who had been giving him a scarily familiar stare since Damion had entered the room.

Yusuke looked stupidly, "Yeah, so what's an indentured servant?"

"I'm their bitch" He said warily, discerning Kuwabara's look. Then it hit him, fandom. _Fuck._ "Your name is Kuwabara, right?"

Kuwabara smiled wildly and stood up. Stars were practically engulfing his eyes. "I'm a huge fan!" Other than Kurama and Yusuke's barely stifled laughter the rest of the room looked on, confused. "Don't you guys know anything?! He is a super famous, really popular, awesome rock star! Kurama you should of told who he was!"

Kurama was still laughing, "I didn't know you would know who he was"

Yusuke looked at Kurama, "Don't bet on him not knowing who people are. Remember, he once risked the human race for a Megalica concert" He looked ever slightly amused.

"And it was worth it!" Kuwabara yelled.

"No, no, I completely agree. I would have done the exact same thing" Damion mused.

Kuwabara was still shaking but he say back down. Damion as well found a seat.

Yusuke asked, "So how the hell have you lasted sixty years with those SDF guys. I met them only a couple times and that was way more than enough for the rest of my life"

"Drugs mostly. And time to time I try to make them real mad. Good for stress relief. I highly recommend it to anyone willing to chance possible prison time"

The night went better then he thought it would. He basically could get along with anyone there. The people he would be fighting with were Kurama, Yusuke, Jin and Touya. Also there were Keiko, Shizuru, and Yukina. He spent a couple of hours talking with them all, getting feel of the group and feeding Kuwabara's metal obsessions. Everyone slowly wondered away to bed and eventually so did Damion.

He retired to a double bedroom he would be sharing with Kurama, and he was kind of uncomfortable with the arrangement. He still had no idea how the read the man. He seemed friendly enough, but there was some sort of darkness deep in his eyes. And then he couldn't help to think about how much the SDF had held him as some sort of evil mastermind. Not that he could hold anything they said with much regard, and he knew they really didn't know a thing about the man, but everything about him still ate at Damion's mind.

Kurama was still in the living area when Damion had left to the room. He was reading. Damion decided to take the time to smoke a shit ton of weed and write a letter.

_Dear David 5.24.2010_

_ It is funny sometimes, the people we end up being around. Today is the start of one of those strange relationships for me. I have been ordered to join in thins years Dark Tournament. You would think that with today's social stigmas they would stop calling it that, but no such luck, but, of course, that it far of point. They have me working with an old spirit detective and his friends, on being a quite notorious thief. I don't know what I should be thinking about the whole thing. I understand of course that the basis of basically the entire SDF is focused on lies and fear propaganda, and I rarely give their opinions any credence, but this strange man… Apparently he is a big bad, evil man. But his eyes… There is something deep in there that reminds me of myself. Some sort if regret… Maybe. I don't know. There is a part of me that wants, actually wants to hate him. And the other part… I want to cry for him. And then he has a way of smiling that makes me swoon… you don't want to hear/read about that. I'm sorry._

_ But this reputation of his; how can a man like what I have seen have such reputation. I can't imagine the world I have heard about involving that smile. Those eyes though… I can't read him. I have seen him fight before, in these tournaments years before. I had written you about it. There, in the ring, I saw a very calculating man, heartless, willing to do anything to win. Completely ruthless and cut throat. It was easy to think of him as that evil man then. But now, maybe he really is just a man like, me. Full of regrets for a past we can't let go of… _

_ Eight more years… It is not as though I would have to remind you, but I need you to know that I am always thinking about you. You are so dear to me… I miss you… _

_ David… Have I been selfish? My letters to you, although perhaps vague, in fact I am ashamed of all this things I haven't told you, have always been so self-observed than anything else. I think I have made you worry about me more than I should of… Realistically I am fine. All my misfortune has always been my own. As children they should have taken me instead of you. Your crime was because of my stupidity. But how many times have I written to you apologizing for that crime? I can never make up to you the time you have had stolen. _

_ You are perhaps wondering why I am so dramatic tonight… I am afraid brother. I really am. I can feel my life being eaten away more than ever. The doctor with Spirit World had told me maybe ten years more, but I am so afraid that it may be less than that. In this predicament I may die even tomorrow… Not so likely, but I can't rule it out. Of course I have lived so much of my life risking tomorrow. Often without a single thought for myself… or you… I have always followed orders. From father… from whoever the person may be. The only person I didn't listen to was you, and that got you, where you are. In a cell. _

_ Remember that time we climbed the Statue of Liberty? We got all the way to the top. Sitting up there I felt like there was a world of possibilities awaiting us. Like we could make it to the top of anything. How did I sink so low?_

_ Dearest brother, _

_ I apologize for the vagueness all my life. Even then I lied to you. I would like to think that by lying I had saved you from maybe pain guilt. But now it is just one of many secrets I keep from you, and you are the only person I have ever wanted to tell them to. It is a sickening sort of irony. Yet in some way fitting of my life. _

_ With love, You're Brother,_

_ Damion Kreigh_

"Do you often spend so much time writing?" Kurama was sitting in the chair on the other side of the bedroom table. He was looking at Damion with mild curiosity.

Damion had no idea how long Kurama had been sitting there. He closed the note book, crossed his legs and sat back in the arm chair. "Yes, I do. Do you always spend so much time spying on people?"

"I was spying?"

"I didn't know you were there"

"I wasn't hiding"

"Guess so" He lit a joint he had in the ash tray beside him. Kurama raised a brow. "You protest?"

"Not at all"

Damion took a long, thoughtful drag, then offered to Kurama. He accepted and took himself a long and thoughtful drag. "Somehow I don't take you as the sort of man to take drugs"

"I don't consider this much of a drug"

"True" He took a wood box from his bag. It wasn't very big but had five compartments. He opened the biggest and pulled out the fixings for another joint and started to roll. Then another. One more, and put two back in his box.

"You carry your drugs around with you everywhere?"

"Just about"

The first joint was spent and they started on the next. "Who were you writing?"

"My brother"

"Oh? What is he like?"

"Don't really know. Haven't seen him since we were kids. He is probably an entirely different person by now. I am"

"Why haven't you seen him?"

"I didn't take you for the sort that asks a lot of questions"

"I'm not. You just make me curios"

"You to huh…" _Maybe we are a bit like each other… _He looked out the window for a quiet moment. Then decided he would confide, if only a little, to this person. "He's in currently incarcerated in the Spirit World prison. He has been in there since he was seventeen. He'll be out in eight years though. I miss him quite a lot" _See, look at that babe, confiding in a stranger like a pro._

"How old were you?"

"Twelve" _'Cause whatever, right? It doesn't matter if this guy knows about me a little._

"And you two were close I take it?"

_Yeah… _"I love my brother. My parents were pretty shitty people. My brother ran away with me when I was ten and raised me on the streets until he was taken away. Then there was little me, alone on the streets of New York. Never had a chance, sorry sod" He chuckled harshly at himself. "Not really. I really am the result of my own bad choices... Hey, why am I supposed to hate you?"

Kurama was taken aback. "Are you?"

"Yeah. Those asses upstairs have been saying for years how bad news you were. When Shun, umm, killed you I guess… He was promoted and got cheers. Fucker is still beside himself. You being alive, no offence, was the funniest news I have ever heard"

"None offence taken". His brow was raised and he watched Damion curiously.

"Good. Thing is, I don't get it. Not a fucking thing. Sure, I've seen you fight years ago in early tournaments, and I got to admit, you can be one intimidating mother fucker. But the only crimes I have known you to commit against Spirit World have been thievery. And however impressive and insulting to them as it may have been, I can't see it warranting that sort of animosity"

"Don't you know? I'm a cold hearted killer. Ever calculating how to better my life by conjuring fear into the masses. Cruel, vindictive, merciless, sadistic…"

"Sure, so the rumors go. But you don't seem those things"

"You have only known me for a minute"

"I consider myself a professional at getting to know people"

"Then what do you think I am?"

He took a moment, looking in to Kurama's eyes. They were a façade, depicting a joyful, albeit serious man. Well balanced and intelligent. But through the cracks a dark lining peered through. "A broken old man full of regrets and shame, with a pleasant smile"

"That is quite the assessment" He didn't seem at all taken aback. In fact we had the trace of grin.

"I'm sorry, that was rude" _Apologizing now am I? I am being to forward though. I should keep my mouth shut._

"I asked. I enjoyed your frankness. It's refreshing. And you're entirely not wrong. Perhaps my past dose shame me. But I think there is room for change in a person's life. Given that, I still think I am as I have been described. I just seek to be less harmful then I once was. One makes less enemies that way"

"Are your enemies the only reason you want to be a better person?"

"No. But my enemies tend to be cruller than myself. In some cases I have lost dear people for actions I had done many years before they had ever known me. I don't think I could continue to be happy if that continued"

"I'm sorry… That is a cruel reality"

Kurama decided on a subject change. "Why do you work for the SDF? That seems a rather strange position for a demon."

"Hell yeah it is, and they won't let me forget it. I'm just about as welcome as fly, fuckers"

"Then why?"

"My brother" He said mater-of-fact-ly.

Kurama was obviously confused. "They arrest your brother, so you work for them. Sound"

"It wasn't until, shit, fifty years later at least. I had the misfortune of getting their attention, not that technically I have done anything illegal, well, in their jurisdiction. Considering human laws," he laughed sarcastically, "Well, I have my outs anyway. But you see, it got to their attention that there was a demon living like a human, who may have been making a ridiculously meager living killing humans" He smiled in a way that said, "_You know, maybe."_

"And they asked you to work for them?"

"Told. Forced. Threated. Bribed. Asked politely. Whatever. Anyway, I was sent 'up' and I was basically told to do their bidding. Of course since I was only, maybe, killing humans by ways that any human could, say guns, as a purely metaphorical example,"

"I'm sure" Kurama was quite amused.

"Yeah. Well this dude said they wanted me to work for them, because I could skip around the red tape and was adapt to blending it and some other things I shouldn't, probably, maybe, talk about"

"And you just went along?"

"Harsh politely asking. And the bribing. That was my turn point, because basically I already had a full plate of work. So in most cases inmates in Spirit World are not allowed any contact at all with the outside world. Working for them I can write him. He still can't write me back, but I like to think I can give him some comfort…"

"You're a good man"

"It's my fault he is in there, he killed those kids because I got into trouble"

"Whatever the reason may be. I once spent a long time alone in cell. Something like a letter from someone I love would have been… Incredibly comforting"

"I thought you were only arrested that time you gave yourself to Yusuke?"

"That is true"

"You're confusing me. Why else would you be in a cell?"

"It was a long time ago and no longer important"

_Boring. _"Sure, okay"

"How do you put up with them?"

"Oh, I don't. I become the biggest sarcastic asshole and pick a fight every time I can. At this point it is like breathing. Natural as hell. We all just coexist in a state of barely livable hate"

"Yes, that encounter I saw with Shun was very livable' He said sarcastically.

"Yup. Hey, did they tell you who I was before we met?"

"Just your name. Why?"

"You knew I was a musician. I didn't, other than in the case of your carrot top friend, that we were really known in Japan. We only toured it once"

"I saw an interview by accident once while on a business trip to San Francisco. It was about a studio you had opened in the area. So I only new vaguely that you were known for your music. I had only seen your art. I actually quite liked it"

"You liked my art?" Damion was always happy to know people enjoyed his music, but that was a group effort on the most part. Him physical art was like an extension of his soul, and something he had always taken solace in since he was a small boy, even when he was not allowed to. Hearing someone knew him because of his art was one of the greatest feelings he could have. He felt a smile over whelming him, but he tried to stay cool. Maybe to cool. He felt like a giggling school girl.

"Yes, I actually went after I saw the interview. Actually talking to you I feel like I may understand what I saw a little more"

"And what's that?"

"You seemed to be telling stories of imaginary, dark places. It looked like you used shadows as the characters, and I really enjoyed it. And then, I took from the parts I had seen in your interview as well as what other people were saying as the basic premise of why you did them, which was a very abusive drug addiction, which I'm not weighing out yet. I could smell more than weed in your box. But now I think what I saw was depicting loneliness more than a he hopelessness of a drug addict. And less dark than I saw them before, maybe less grey than blue, if that makes sense" He smiled a polite smile.

"It dose" _This person reads things to well. _"You act like you have seen my work more than once"

"Well, I have. I bought two painting actually". He was blushing and looked a bit away.

"The infamous artifact and art thief bought two of my paintings? I have no idea how much I enjoy that"

"That grin is giving me an idea"

Damion made an obvious attempt to straighten his wide, lush lips and Kurama laughed. Suddenly Kurama felt a stirring between his legs. _**Why must he keep drawing attention to his lips? **_ He thought about how Damion would lightly lick the insides of his lips when we talked. His tongue seemed to be in constant movement. He had so much animation in his mouth. Kurama found it very cute, and very attractive. The smile, the pout, and his unusual voice. Raspy, probably from years of smoking, but still sweet and controlled. He imagined that he was probably a great singer and could understand his popularity. And then how he sat around so carefree, almost like a rag doll. Drooped over everything, only caring about his own comfort, but his eyes wondered the corner of everything, scanning every detail he could take in. His clothes were broken in and hung limply over his body, loose reviling quite a bit of chest, tattoo's and scars. He was almost a constant seductive sight.

Damion's phone started playing a drunk sounding song saying something sexual about a "pet". The picture was of an anime like spiral of shit with eyes and a bowler hat. The name under it was "Him Again" Damion quickly answered it, checking the time. It was almost morning.

"Veek, it's three the hell in the morning, are you fucking high? What the fuck do you want? Fights start tomorrow"

Kurama turned his attention to his window, looking out the sea, making a point to forget his lust.

"Shit, not right now. I should get some sleep soon"

…

"Well I've been socializing. Arrest me"

…

"Fuck, I don't care. Not tonight. I'll come see you after the fight"

…

"Stop it" He changed from annoyed, and he began to look worried, like a puppy getting yelled at. He stood up and walked to the other side of the room.

…

"There's no fucking reason…"

…

"What room?"

…

"I'll be there in ten. But I have to sleep"

…

"Sure. Be right there. Sorry." He hung up. "Turns out I have to go see someone. If I'm not back before you guys leave, I'll meet you at the stadium" Before Kurama could say anything Damion had left the room. Kurama swore he looked scared.


End file.
